Sunday, August 2, 2015

Leave Yesterday Behind by Lauren Linwood

Callie Chennault vaulted to fame on the
nighttime soap Sumner Falls, but after a decade of playing the same
role, she is ready for a new acting challenge. When Callie is attacked by a
stalker on the streets of New York, she takes a leave of absence from the show
and returns to her roots in Aurora, Louisiana, to heal both physically and
emotionally and determine her next career move.

Former professional baseball pitcher Nick
La Chappelle has also come to Aurora to lick his own wounds after a messy
divorce. A Cy Young winner and one-time ESPN broadcaster, Nick longs for the
quiet of a small town in order to write murder mysteries under a pen name.

Sparks fly when Callie believes Nick is
taking advantage of her great-aunt’s hospitality, but they resolve their
differences—and surprise themselves by falling in love. Their bond is tested
when both Nick and Callie become the focus of a serial killer nicknamed
Lipstick Larry. Can they outwit a murderer bent on seeing them dead and survive
to build a lasting relationship?

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Maybe she
should take a cab home. But her subway station was only a block and half away.
It would be foolish to stand out in a downpour after nine at night when she
could duck in and be on her way downtown in a couple of minutes. Callie liked
that people left her alone on the subway. A few sometimes stared at her and
frowned, wondering if they’d ever seen her before. Most turned away, not quite
able to place her.

After all, she
left Jessica behind at the studio every day. No chic clothes, Ravenous Red
mouth, or fancy hairstyle. She didn’t often get recognized in real life unless
it was a die-hard fan. Even then, most New Yorkers were cool about it and
simply ignored her.

Chill out.
Just move.

“Jessica?”

She turned
automatically and saw a man standing behind her. He was probably the reason
she’d had the feeling of being followed. He seemed a little out of breath, as
if he’d been keeping up with her awhile. It had happened before. She knew it
would happen again.

And always with
this type.

He was
non-descript in every way—average height and build, brown hair, glasses.
Harmless looking. Dopey grin on his face, like he’d hit the lottery because
he’d actually had the balls to speak to the crush of his daydreams. She knew
enough to be firm. Give him a brief little personal moment, a smile and her
signature on something, and get back to her life.

Then a quick
flash of John Lennon signing an autograph for Mark David Chapman zipped through
her brain. He’d been average, too.

And he’d killed
Lennon hours after someone snapped a photograph of them together.

“You don’t look
like Jessica up close.” His voice was silky, almost caressing, yet the tone was
definitely disappointed.

Her pulse
quickened. She took a step back to put a little distance between them and
brushed against a brick wall.

“I like to give
my skin a rest away from the studio. All that heavy make-up and hairspray can
cause a girl some damage.” She kept her tone calm and friendly as she glanced
over the man’s shoulder.

No one was in
sight.

“I want to see
Jessica. She’s my favorite.”

He pulled
something from his pocket and held it up. “Put this on. It’ll help. It’s the
perfect shade.” He smiled shyly. “I’ll even let you do it. You’re the expert.”
He reached out and grabbed her wrist and laid the item in her hand before
letting go.

Chills ran through
her as she opened her palm. In it lay a gold tube of Jessica’s signature Ravenous
Red.

A knife
appeared, clutched in the stranger’s left hand. Callie’s heart beat
erratically. Her words died in her throat.

“Don’t worry,”
he said softly. “You know how to be Jessica whenever you want.”

Her palms grew
damp. The lipstick he’d given her almost slipped from her hand.

“Jessica likes
to be seen wearing this color. Put it on. Now.” His voice was quiet, but the
underlying threat hung in the air all the same.

Callie brought
a shaking hand to her mouth and realized the lid was still on. She removed it
and twisted a few turns before she lifted the lipstick close again.

Oh, God, she
was so nervous. She stroked color onto her upper lip and then across the
bottom. Her hand slipped, though, and a searing red line jutted across her
lower cheek.

“You made a
mistake. Wipe it off. Do it again. It has to be perfect.” The tone was deadly.

“I’ll need some
cold cream. Red stains pretty badly.” She gulped air, trying to calm herself.
She couldn’t let this guy see how rattled she was. “And I know you want this to
be perfect. So do I.”

“I can fix it.”

She watched him
pull a tissue from his jacket pocket. He gave it a lick and then stroked it
down her cheek to her jaw several times.